


Trapped

by sorcererinslytherin



Series: Ashes and Embers: Days in the Lives of the FAHC [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 18:25:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17228948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorcererinslytherin/pseuds/sorcererinslytherin
Summary: If Michael had realized what would happen, he never would have done it. Obviously. If anyone realized what the consequences of their actions would be, they’d never take them to begin with. But this was a new height of stupidity, even for him. Now, he lay in the darkness, waiting to be found or to die.Part of my crosspost from tumblr. Read more in my Ashes and Embers series.





	Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> I'm crossposting my favorite fics from tumblr over here to AO3. They will all be posted individually but collected in a series titled "Ashes and Embers." Please feel free to check out all of them and give me a follow over on tumblr if you like them!

If Michael had realized what would happen, he never would have done it. Obviously. If anyone realized what the consequences of their actions would be, they’d never take them to begin with. But this was a new height of stupidity, even for him. Now, laying in the darkness, waiting to be found or die or …

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus his breathing. They’d come. They always came. His crew would never leave him, they’d hear what happened, they’d fight tooth-and-nail to get him out. Wouldn’t they?

It was such a simple thing. He was supposed to light some basic charges to take down a building that a rival crew was squatting in. It was an abandoned building anyways, scheduled to be demo-ed. They had doubted they’d even get much lash-back from the city. That, and they’d take out an entire crew in one fell swoop. Dropping an entire house down on their heads had seemed a bit drastic when Jeremy had first suggested it, but after weighing the pros and cons, it had seemed the best course of action to minimize any danger on their side.

Loading the building with concentrated charges of C4 had been childs’ play. Like he said, the building was just about ready to come down anyways. He had rigged up the explosives like he’d done a million times. Double-checked them for safety, too. There was just enough explosive to make that building go, but they didn’t want to take out an entire city block or anything. 

But he didn’t take schematics into account and that’s what fucked him. He had lit the C4 from a building close by. The subsequent explosion had weakened the foundations of the nearby building and before he could do anything but leap into a reinforced doorway, the whole building had crumbled down around him.

When the dust had cleared, Michael realized a few things - he was alive. Thank fucking christ. But his leg - _fucking hell, his leg_ … it wasn’t crushed, thank fuck, but it was wedged badly between two rocks. He was stuck. Trapped. It was dark and he was stuck in the rubble. If anything else was rocked by his charges and came down, he’d be a sitting duck.

Panic ate at him and he clawed at his leg, trying to free it. The others weren’t far away. Hopefully they didn’t think he was dead. They’d come looking for him, wouldn’t they?

His thoughts spiraled and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control his breathing. Tight spaces weren’t really his thing. He was alive and he still had use of all his limbs… for now, at least. He’d seen that fucking movie, 34 Hours or 37 Hours or whatever the fuck it was. He didn’t want to fucking cut his own leg off, but…

He could have only been down here for twenty minutes. Half an hour tops, unless he had fallen unconscious and didn’t realize it. His ears were ringing from the blast still and it was so goddamn dark. He was lucky that the doorway was reinforced enough to keep rubble from crushing him.

He took a deep breath and held it, trying to focus on his breathing to keep himself from panicking. Who knows how much air he had in this fucking hole anyways? That thought did not make it easier to stop from gulping.

_Fuck fuck fuck…_

He tugged at his leg again and felt the skin under the pants tear. Involuntarily, he let out a howl as he felt his skin rip. And as the sound faded and the pain filtered away, he heard it. “–AHEL!”

_Michael._ That sounded like … “JACK!” HIs voice wasn’t that strong, throat dusty, but he was Michael goddamn Jones and he knew how to shout. “JACK!”

Ten painstaking minutes passed. Heart pounding, he was just about to figure he had just been hearing things when there was the sound of something moving above him. Grunting and swearing and - was that crying?

Suddenly sunlight - bright, precious, clear sunlight and with it fresh air - came flooding on him as a rock was moved. Jack was standing there, her red hair haloed around a face covered in dirt and tears and rock dust. “Oh thank god, Michael, Michael, Michael… I found him! I found him, he’s alive, he’s over here…”

She babbles into her coms as she falls to her knees by Micheal, borderline hysterical. He blinks up at her a bit owlishly in the sun. “Hey,” he rasps. “Thanks for finding me.”

Blinking, she bushes away tears and moves some more rubble away from his small hole. “I thought you were dead,” she breathed. “I saw the house come down and …”

“Not that easy to kill,” he said with a fake smile. _I did too._ “Can you get this fucking thing off my leg?”

Before she could reply, the others were racing forward. Behind them was all of Fakehaus… Caleb the Medic… B-Team…. They all looked frantic and worried.

“We called them immediately, as soon as we saw the house come down,” Jack explains softly, starting to try to pull the rocks apart that were pinning him. “We … we hoped we would find you, but we thought we’d be pulling your body out.”

“Michael!” The screams of the others halted any reply he could make. They fell down around the doorway that had saved his life, still standing, and started to frantically clear rubble. It was Ryan - tears on his face, the Vagabond who never cries - who yanked him out of his hole and into a frantic hug. Suddenly everyone was touching him, kissing him, ruffling his hair. 

Free. Sagging into the other’s touch and gasping in fresh air, he let himself think it. A close call, but safe at last.


End file.
